Legacies
by L. LaRue
Summary: Dante finds another half-demon who happens to be connected to his family. But as always there's something else stirring.   Contains both anime & games... R&R
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry. If I did the 4th game would make far more sense than it did… (sigh) I only own my OC's._

Prologue

"This is really pathetic, is this all you got to throw at me?" the green devil asked sarcastically as he slashed through yet one another of Mundus' demons.

Around him was a huge pile of demons surrounding him, which had been recently defeated and began fading back to the Demon World. The portal connecting the two worlds was still open and the tower was still standing. _If you're going to do something, you had better damn well do it soon Sparda, _the devil thought. No more than the thought had passed through the head of the green devil then he heard a great grinding sound in the distance. As he watched, the tower started to collapse in upon itself as if it was spiraling down from the top and going _inside _itself. _Well, it's about time, _the devil sighed to himself. Demons started wailing and disappearing inside the portal as it grew smaller and smaller.

As the devil watched he heard a cry of great rage and disappointment come from somewhere inside the portal. He then took one of the two swords he possessed and drew it from its sheath. It was an Eastern sword, a long deadly katana, the handle wrapped with red and black leather to give it a firmer grip. He looked at the sheath which was made of a rich wood not from this world, and was blacker than obsidian. He held the blade lovingly for a moment then thrust it into his stomach. While the blood flowed freely green energy poured out from his body and bathed the blade, it appeared as if the blade was drinking in the energy; gulping it in as a man dying from thirst might.

As all of this was occurring, the green devils' body started shimmering and slimming down in shape in size. The devil wrenched the sword loose from his stomach as if it took him an enormous effort to pull it free. After the devil detached the sword from his stomach, two events occurred; the green energy stopped pouring out, and the devils' body stopped changing. After he slashed the air with the katana and the blood flew off it the devil inspected himself in the moonlight reflected off the sword. He now appeared to be an athletically built human male in his mid-twenties with long silver hair that reached past his shoulders. Bright gold eyes peered back at him as he looked over his new form shown to him by the sword. _I'm human now, I'm actually human…_ the devil thought distractedly as he sheathed the katana and it vanished from sight.

"Rausten, it is done, it is finally over." A man in his thirties said as he strolled over to the devil. The man had silver hair, which was shorter but slicked back so it was spiked somewhat.

"Yeah took you long enough Sparda. While you left me with the humans, (some of which died might I point out) so you could go deal with Mundus, _we _had to deal with the main forces. They weren't all that challenging, but they were a pain in the ass…" The one he had called Rausten stopped talking as Sparda came over and embraced him.

"It is over little brother; Mundus is sealed in the Demon World forever." Sparda softly said as he adjusted Rebellion on his back, and leaned Yamato against his leg.

"Yeah I know, and the world will forever know the greatness of General Sparda, the Legendary Dark Knight." Rausten said mockingly as he spun the tip of his other sword on his middle finger.

"If you are my brother and respect me you will not call me by either of those titles. I find them extremely annoying." The former devil said the distaste evident in his voice.

"Whatever you say, for you _are _my elder brother as you constantly remind me, I should listen to my betters." Rausten grinned as he finished speaking; getting on his brothers' nerves was a talent few had.

"Yes you should, I don't like those insufferable titles, you watch they'll take all of this and try to make me a sort of god someday." Sparda grumbled.

"Well what do we do now? The demons are gone, Mundus is half dead, and we're stuck here." Rausten asked.

"We live." Sparda responded simply.

"Well than fine, I'm outta here; I'm going to explore this world." Rausten said somewhat crankily.

"You are leaving, just like that?" Sparda asked, for the brothers hardly ever separated even after Sparda initially rebelled, Rausten followed a little after.

"Yes, now that I'm cut off from our home, I want to see what our new one looks like." He replied.

"Then I will see you when I see you." Sparda said quietly to himself as they walked in opposite directions, both of them noticing the strange wetness in their eyes.

The brothers met up from time to time, as soldiers in Rome, samurai in Japan, knights in Europe. In World War I, they fought for the British, as demons summoned by the Axis, or because of the bloodshed and strife, inflicted chaos and destruction on both sides. In World War II, they met much to their surprise as soldiers fighting for the Americans. Sparda, easily recognized by those who took an interest in the legend after it took shape and grew after the last battle with Mundus, but Rausten preferred to keep to himself and hardly anyone knew of him. As stories often do, the brothers became legend, legend became myth and myth became almost forgotten. After World War II, almost forty years would pass before they came into contact again.

New York City, mid-October 1975

A chill breeze was scattering the leaves into the door as Sparda walked into the diner. As he sat opposite in the booth of his brother, the waitress took his order and returned with a steaming mug of black coffee while Rausten was nursing his second glass of Fat Tire.

"You call me yesterday, tell me you're coming to New York today and now we're sitting here. What the hell, my dear older brother do you want?" Rausten queried after he took a sip of beer.

"You remember Eva? She just gave birth to twins the other day, I have sons Rausten, sons." Sparda said the pride evident in his voice.

"Oh, congrats, you couldn't tell me this over the phone?" Rausten grumbled.

"I came because of that and something else. I split the amulet between the boys." Sparda said with a frown.

"You did what? Are you nuts?" Rausten exclaimed after he spewed his beer.

"No more crazy than you when you put half your power in the sword to become human, then you _left it here_ instead of putting it in the Demon World like I did with mine." Sparda said obviously annoyed.

"Well… I… wanted to uh… use it as a sort of backup and leave it here if I have a child." Rausten lamely replied.

"My sons will have to _earn_ it if they want it." Sparda said firmly.

"What are their names?" Rausten asked quietly chastised.

"There's Vergil, he's the elder, he's very calm and collected even as a toddler; then there's Dante, he's going to be wild and reckless." Sparda said with a fond smile.

"What, are you going for a _Divine Comedy_ effect?" Rausten asked. His mouth could never stop for long.

"I won't even respond to that brother." Sparda glared.

"Well here's to the next generation, if I have a kid hope he makes it." Rausten said as he downed his beer.

"You, have a child? Poor kid's fucked." Sparda said as they roared with laughter.

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	2. Chapter 2

Mission One: The Lucky Devil

Portland, Oregon December 12th 2010

"Where the Hell is all my business at?" The young man moaned as he rolled his head on the desk.

"Well, I would say that most of them are out in the bar waiting for you." A voice said with a hint of a laugh.

The young man raised his head slowly off the desk and smirked as he looked around the office. A large black oak desk sat in the back of the office, which contained some scattered paperwork. The other noticeable item on the desk was two pictures in simple wooden frames. The first picture was of a young man around fourteen or so dressed in nothing but a pair of black shorts and black sandals. There was an older man who was barefoot, had a white tank top and green shorts. He greatly resembled the boy and had his arm slung carelessly around the boy's shoulder, both of them sharing identical smirks. The picture was at some long forgotten beach in Southern California. The other resemblance was that both the boy and the man had long snow-white hair pulled back in ponytails and golden eyes. The second one was of a girl with glasses and brunette hair kissing Holden on the cheek out front of the bar as he held a sign that said Grand Opening! In huge letters.

A mahogany cabinet stood in the corner of the office with glass inlaid in the wooden doors. Through the glass, two swords were in easy view. One was a long deadly katana, which a black sheath covered. The burnished plaque above it read _Backlash_. The other sword appeared to be somewhat of a medieval knight's sword, which was about five feet long and the guard for the hilt looked like bones. At the end of the hilt was a black crystal, held by what appeared to be five claws firmly grasping at it. The plaque above read_ Eternity._

"In the bar huh? I'm not talkin' about the regular business; I'm talkin' 'bout the other one Michelle. Ya know, the better paying more interesting one." The young man said smirk firmly in place.

"Oh, the business that rarely calls or helps pay the bills. Good thing you have a backup business, right Holden?" Michelle said with a knowing smile.

"Yeah, I like that business a lot more than the backup business as you put it." Holden sighed.

"Well right now we have customers to serve, put up your guns and get your ass behind the bar." Michelle said firmly.

Holden looked over one of the few people in his life that could actually put him in his place. Michelle Sayre was twenty-four, short brunette hair, glasses that covered beautiful brown eyes, fierce determination, rolled into an awesome five-foot frame. Holden was twenty-one, (twenty-two in a couple of months, thank you very much) about 6'3, athletically built, and one of the most handsome smartasses Kim had ever met. He had ethereal good looks, eyes like liquid gold and snow-white hair. Yet despite his smartass demeanor and cocky smirk, he sometimes had an air of lonesome weariness about him. After he had a few half-gallons of Jameson, Holden would often sit on the roof by himself and look at the night sky. Whenever she asked what he was doing up there, he'd just say he was thinking about the simple things in life. Underneath his grinning, nonchalant, smartass attitude, Holden Stockton was one of the nicest most kindhearted people Kim had ever met. When he had came to Portland last year he had initially bumped into her quite by accident while she was fleeing from a demon her jealous ex-boyfriend had summoned after she broke up with him. He shot the hell out of it, and then asked her if she knew of any two-story buildings for sale. After the shock had worn off, she had replied that there was a rundown building near the Greyhound station in the Pearl District. He then asked her if she knew anything about business and needed a job. A few months later, the _Lucky Devil_ opened its doors to the city of Portland.

"Alright, I'll put up the damn guns and tend bar, calm down will ya?" Holden whined. He then grabbed two guns out from his desk drawer and put them in the cabinet. His guns were as unique as his swords. They were pitch-black custom made .45 caliber pistols. They had beautiful cursive etched along the barrels in silver. His left-handed gun had the word_ Dusk_ engraved on it in silvery cursive. The right-handed bore the name _Midnight. _The guns also featured pictures of the ace of spades on fire on both grips. Another unique feature the guns also had in tiny cursive underneath the names, the words _For Holden Stockton by .45 Art Warks. _He brushed off his black t-shirt, which he was wearing over a grey thermal. He was also wearing faded blue jeans with oil stains and a hole which was beginning to form in the right knee.

The dark blue neon sign above the entrance to the bar that bore the name _Lucky Devil _in flowing cursive flickered a few times as the tall man casually strolled toward the bar as snow swirled around the air. He wore a blood-red leather trench coat that flapped like flames because of the wind, had snow-white hair that went a bit past his ears, and ice blue eyes.

"Thank God, it's almost closing time." Holden said as he shut off the grill, and turned off the deep fat fryers. _No Surprises _by _Radiohead _was playing in the background. One of the things the customers learned early on was not to bitch about the music selection. Music was life to Holden. Most of them didn't complain because Holden played everything at his bar. He sometimes had well known bands play if he could arrange it.

The bell above the door jingled as it opened and Holden groaned inwardly hoping whoever it was would have the good graces to drink quickly and leave.

"Well, this is a kickass place you got here squirt." A voice drawled as heavy boots thudded their way to the counter.

"Who the hell are you calling…" Holden began as he turned around and looked upon his customer.

Whoever this joker was he looked almost like a carbon copy of Holden. Alarms began going off in the back of Holden's head as he looked at the stranger in shock. The _aura_ this guy was giving off was unbelievable too. Holden's devil side immediately started to growl and stir restlessly.

"_Who the fuck are you?_" Holden asked in a deadly quiet voice wishing he had his guns.

"Easy squirt, I'm…" He couldn't finish due to the fact Holden had started yelling.

"QUIT CALLING ME SQUIRT FUCKHEAD!" Holden shouted his eyes flashing black for a second.

"Whoa, chill out dude. Like I tried to say, the name's Dante." He said as he raised his hands trying to pacify the younger half-demon.

"Dante, huh? And what the Hell do you want?"

_Tell me what you think... first fanfic btw_


	3. Chapter 3

Mission Two: Play Nice Kids

"Dante huh? And what the Hell do you want?" Holden asked harshly, really itching for his guns.

"Money, booze and a new toilet seat cover." Dante replied nonchalantly as he stuffed his hands in the pockets of his duster.

"Wait, what?" Holden said totally caught off guard.

"Well that's what I want…" Dante joked.

"Well than, let's rephrase that. What do you want _from me_?" Holden asked forcefully.

"Uh, well… this is just awkward as fuck, but umm dude we're cousins." Dante said hurriedly.

"Not possible." Holden stated flatly as the itch for his guns became almost unbearable.

"Yeah it is, just give me a minute to explain." Dante sighed.

Dante never got the minute. At least not then. Holden jumped over the bar counter. When later asked about it, he would honestly say he didn't know what came over him. Just the burning need to beat Dante stupid. Holden threw a well practiced right at Dante who was surprised enough to let it connect with his jaw. He felt his jawbone snap as ironically _Everything Turns Grey_ by Agent Orange started playing on the speakers mounted on the walls. Dante growled and went into attack mode as Holden came at him again. _You wanna play with me punk? Right on, let's party…_ Dante thought as he tried to restrain the kid and give him the beating of a lifetime.

Holden looked over at the devil hunter as he cracked his neck and his jawbone healed with a sickening snap. _Alright dude, you want it? Come and get it_. Holden thought as he took a defensive stance. For the next three and a half minutes it was punches, kicks, grunts and smartass remarks from the pair of half-demons as they turned the Lucky Devil into a scene straight out of _Roadhouse_. Finally what ended the fight was a gunshot.

"And fuck you!" Holden hollered as he broke Dante's ribs with one last punch, semi-oblivious to the gunshot.

"That's enough!" Michelle shouted training the still smoking revolver on both of them. Her hand was shaking as she looked from the red clad man to Holden.

"He started it." Dante said as he shoved his hands in his pockets like a five year old while his ribs healed.

"Kiss my ass bastard." Holden scowled as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Who the hell is he?" Michelle asked Holden.

"This is Dante. He says he's my cousin." Holden said in a tone that indicated extreme disbelief.

"I _am_ your cousin shithead." Dante said annoyed.

"Say you are. Two things. First: why haven't you found me until now? Second and most important: proof." Holden retorted his arms still crossed.

"Look squi… dude, take my word for it. We're related. Your old man is my uncle." Dante grinned disarmingly.

"You're my dad's nephew?" Holden asked slowly as it clicked into place.

"Yeah I am. And the reason I didn't look you up 'till now? I didn't even know you existed until the other day." Dante replied wearily.

"Out of curiosity, how _did_ you find out?" Holden inquired harshly.

"That's a story for another time brat." Dante smirked as the aforementioned brat scowled heavily at being treated like a child.

"Fine, whatever. So what are you here for? You don't seem like the type to just show up for a family reunion." Holden stated dryly.

"You got me there man. Look how about we talk this over with a beer and a slice? I'm starving." Dante's request was accented by the rumbling of his stomach.

"Yeah, let's do that." Holden said automatically.

"Wait, Holden. Are you sure we can trust this guy?" Michelle asked sensibly.

"I'm not sure, but for now I'm going with the flow." Holden said with a small smile to reassure Michelle.

"Typical Pisces." Michelle said as she rolled her eyes, she firmly believed in the descriptions of astrological signs.

"Typical Virgo, always worrying and logical." Holden said as the smile became a grin.

"Can we get the pizza and beer before I starve?" Dante nearly whined.

"Yeah, wait a sec. Michelle, can you call somewhere for a pizza?" Holden asked.

"No problem, I'll call Domino's." Michelle said businesslike as she headed for the back office.

"Yay…" Dante muttered. He felt it had taken far too long for a phone call to be happening just now for pizza.

"Beer?" Holden asked while he proceeded to hop over the bar counter. He opened the cooler and smirked as he tossed him a MGD after he had opened a Rolling Rock for himself.

"Yup." Dante grunted as he caught it without even barely looking.

They walked over to a table in the corner as the opening chords of _Alive _by Pearl Jam filled the room. The two sat across from each other in silence assessing one another trying to get the others measure. It became a staring contest of sorts. They looked into each others eyes without blinking, trying to discern the mind of the other. The stare was broken only when Holden left without speaking a word to get more beer. Even fifteen minutes later when Michelle set the pizza in front of them with a bowl of ranch they said nothing. They ate silently and continued to stare at each other.

"Thanks for the beer." Dante said, breaking the half-hour silence.

It had been true silence because Michelle turned off the stereo earlier then killed most of the lights. The soft neon glow of the sign outside colored some of Holden's face as the clock clicked over to 1:30 It had been about an hour and a half since Dante showed up. Holden yawned, then decided to ask the obvious question before he fell asleep.

"Why are you here?" Holden asked sleepily.

"Honestly? I wanted to meet the rest of the family." _And just about the last of it_. Dante thought to himself bitterly as he spoke.

"Thought you weren't big on family reunions." Holden replied not even bothering to stifle the yawn that escaped him.

"You thought wrong dude." Dante murmured as Holden propped his feet on the table and passed out quietly in his chair.

About five minutes had passed before Michelle came downstairs from the upper loft to check on them. She looked at the quietly sleeping Holden with a smile. She heard a clatter from behind the bar then the familiar clink of ice in a tumbler as she turned to see Dante pour himself a tumbler of Jack Daniels and pull a Maverickfrom a battered white and green pack of cigarettes inside his duster. The red lighter illuminated his face briefly as he sparked it to life. Michelle was good at reading people. In that half second it took him to light his cigarette she saw a mixture of emotions; regret, sorrow, loneliness. Then it was gone, like it had never been there. The calm confident look was in his eyes and that handsome smirk was there again. She couldn't be sure if she saw any of that at all, but her instincts told her that she did.

"Out already? He usually goes to bed at 3:00 and gets up at 7:00. Guess he must be tired for once." She said hoping to make some casual conversation with the older half-demon.

"Guess I wore him out somehow." Dante quietly chuckled then took a drag off his cigarette.

"What are you planning to do?" Michelle asked.

"Hah, not sure of that myself babe." Dante said after a pause to take a healthy slug from his tumbler of whiskey.

"If you hurt him, I'll kill you myself." Michelle said firmly eyeing the man.

"Fair enough sweetheart." Dante said with a grin as he took another drag off his cigarette.

"I'm serious." Michelle said with a deep frown.

"I can see that babe." Dante replied cheekily.

The two stood in silence for a minute or so as Dante finished his cigarette and poured a third tumbler of Jack Daniels. The silence was broke as Michelle's _Android_ rang. Her ring tone was _Halleluiah_ by The Helio Sequence. She hit the ignore button. More than likely it was her friend Anna, wondering where she was as she was supposed to go to a party after closing.

"So, Holden's dad had a brother? He never mentioned anything about him having any more relatives from uhh, _that_ side of his family." Michelle asked, wanting to find out more.

"You know what he is?" Dante asked faintly surprised as he flicked his cigarette butt into the trashcan on the far end of the bar.

"Yeah, he told me. It wasn't hard to figure out that there's something different about him." Michelle replied with a small smile.

"For sure." Dante said with a laugh as he rubbed a hand across his jaw and stretched out with a huge yawn.

"I didn't know his dad had a brother. And apparently neither did he." Michelle said softly as she sat down on a bar stool.

"Yep, uncle Rausten was my dad's brother." Dante replied.

"Who was your dad?" Michelle asked, though she had a feeling she knew the answer.

"Ever hear about Sparda? That's my old man." Dante replied neutrally.

"Oh, wow." Michelle said softly her hunch confirmed.

"It doesn't mean anything." Dante said a bit more forcefully then he intended.

"I didn't mean to upset you." Michelle said.

"It's cool." Dante replied shortly, not wanting to get into it.

Holden started to stir in his sleep and murmur strange words. Dante crossed the room in a few long strides and picked up the young man.

"Lead the way?" Dante asked as he tossed Holden over his shoulder easily.

Michelle silently started heading to the back door with a set of stairs which led to the second floor that Holden had converted into a house for himself.

"Damn." Dante whistled after Michelle unlocked the door.

The second floor was a huge open area with walls here and there to separate different rooms. Industrial lighting covered most of the ceiling. The kitchen was spacious and had the latest in cooking equipment. Holden loved to cook on the rare occasion he entertained. The living room was huge with four black leather couches and a few chairs. A huge plasma flat screen took up most of one wall. He also had speakers placed strategically throughout the house and the stereo was hooked up in the living room. Jimmy Buffett's_ Son of a Son of a Sailor _softlyemanated throughout the house. He also had a league size pool table with the rack already set; a few sticks stood in a stand against a wall.

The next thing Dante saw was posters. Everywhere. Nirvana, The Doors, Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, Frank Zappa, Radiohead, The Misfits, Bob Marley, Modest Mouse, The Germs, The Ramones,The Beatles and their individual posters. It seemed the kid listened to _everything_. After he cleared his head of the musical assault he noticed a beat up black leather jacket hanging off a coat rack next to the door with even more beat up combat boots sitting underneath of it. Dante shook his head in amusement, knowing he'd have to do something about Holden's wardrobe. He followed Michelle down the length of the second floor to Holden's room bypassing a door that led to what appeared to be a guest room.

Needless to say Holden's room was as unique as the rest of the second floor. Again, more posters covered the room. He also had a bookshelf with lots of books on various subjects. Biographies, the occult, Buddhism, books from the '60's and '70's counterculture, A large writing desk in the corner with an old book written in Latin lying open and a notebook and black pen beside it. A small statue of the Buddha sat on the shelf adjoining the desk. A wall locker was on the other side of the room next to a large black dresser. Set up against one wall was a king sized bed with a black comforter, pillow and sheets, above was a poster of Hunter S. Thompson. It was there Dante laid his cousin gently so he could continue to rest.

What shocked Dante the most was how _clean_ everything was. It baffled him. He followed Michelle back downstairs and left for his motel room without saying a word.

_Sorry it took awhile to upload this chapter... Busy in culinary school. Thanks for the reviews. Tell me what you think... later! _


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